Handprint on my Heart
by Mittens no Hikari
Summary: [Oneshot] Yami and Yugi say a final, painful goodbye as they stand before the gate that will lead Yami back to his past, but even the agony of the farewell cannot change the effect they've had on one another's lives and hearts.


I finally saw the very last episode of Yu-Gi-Oh.

Hence, this.

It will deviate somewhat from the episode itself. My aim is not to retell the identical episode.

Please, reviews, both positive and negative, are deeply appreciated. I need to learn how to improve upon my writing, and I can only do that through feedback. Anything you can give me is wonderful.

Disclaimer: I own neither Yu-Gi-Oh nor the song "For Good" from the musical _Wicked_.

**Handprint on my Heart**

­_A one-shot exploring Yugi and Yami's goodbye_

He knelt there, his slim shoulders shaking, tears pooling on the unforgiving stone in front of him. His back arched as the pain tore at his heart, and he was clenching his fists until the knuckles turned white, as if by clinging to the ground, maybe he could hold on to what he so desperately didn't want to lose.

Yami was suddenly beside him, a serene smile on his face as he helped his other half to stand, strong hands on his shoulders. "A champion doesn't belong on his knees," he said, his voice teasing but with a note of compassion beneath the deep baritone.

Yugi looked up at him, his violet eyes huge in his white face, his mouth trembling as he tried to keep his tears in check—not because he was afraid to show his heartache, but because the Pharaoh seemed, for the first time, to be at peace with himself and where he belonged.

When it came down to it, wasn't that what they'd been working for all along?

_I've heard it said_

_That people come into our lives_

_For a reason_

_Bringing something we must learn_

_And we are led to those who help us most to grow_

_If we let them, and we help them in return_

Yami looked deeply into Yugi's eyes and his heart wrenched at what he saw there. Yes, he wanted to go back where he belonged. Yes, for the first time he could remember who he was and where he came from. Yes, he knew that fate was pushing him to enter the door that stood open before him.

But...

Before he could say anything, Yugi voiced what his mind had been whispering softly. "Why would fate bring us together only to tear our souls apart?"

Hearing his other half say it was like listening to his own thoughts—only immeasurably softer, gentler, purer. Yami's eyes widened. Maybe he knew the reason after all.

"Maybe, Yugi, the objective of the journey we took had nothing to do with this moment, here, when we must separate forever."

"Maybe, the reason was instead the journey itself."

_Well, I don't know if I believe that's true_

_But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you_

"I understand," Yugi whispered, watching his other self from eyes that swam with tears. "But to know I'll never see you again... I'm going to feel like there's something missing from the rest of my life."

Yami clasped his light's shoulder. "But there won't be," he said, staring straight into the smaller boy's eyes and willing him to believe what the spirit was saying. "You were a whole person before you ever thought of the Millennium Puzzle, much less solved it. To let me go will be only to return to yourself—whole, complete, and as genuinely good as you were the day I met you."

_Like a comet pulled from orbit_

_When it passes a sun_

"Remember?" Yami said quietly, still holding the boy's shoulders in his long, slender fingers. "Remember how, even when I tried to make it otherwise, you still knew when, in order to do the right thing, you had to take control from me?"

The memories flashed by his own eyes and he flinched. They were painful ones—he'd willingly admit that. The duel with Kaiba on the rooftop of Pegasus' castle, when he'd been willing to send the young man to his death and would have done so had Yugi not stopped him; the duel with the possessed Joey, when Yugi had nearly given his own life to ensure the safety of both Joey and Yami himself; the duel in which Yami had played the Seal of Orichalcos in his hunger for power and victory, only to lose and have Yugi give his own soul to save that of his darker half.

"That didn't matter," Yugi said brokenly, turning his face away and trying—but failing—to smile as if brushing off the pain. "Your heart is genuinely good beneath the confusion and shadows, and it always has been."

"Yes." And Yami took his other half's chin in his hand and made him meet his eyes. "And you were that which helped me see that. You changed the course on which I traveled. I could easily have slipped into evil. You were the rock that kept me from that."

_Like a stream that meets a boulder_

_Halfway through the wood_

Yugi wanted so badly to cry. He wanted to scream, to run away, to stay there, to pull away, to keep their connection, to forget, to remember.

He wanted to hold the Millennium Puzzle's familiar, comforting weight in his hands one last time.

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_But because I knew you_

"Do you understand?" The Pharaoh's voice was gentle, compassionate—but it was also definite and firm. He had to go. He couldn't live as a restless spirit forever, wandering the halls of his own memory with no clue as to who he was.

"I understand," Yugi whispered almost inaudibly. Finally, through his anguish, he managed to crack the smallest of smiles. "That doesn't make it hurt any less."

_I have been changed for good_

"Will we ever see you again!"

Téa's tearful cry jolted the two boys out of their dreamlike connection. For a few moments, they'd forgotten that others were there.

Yami looked to those who were watching, some with cold and expressionless faces—okay, one with a cold and expressionless face, and that was Kaiba—others awed, and others—the friends to whom he'd grown close—stricken.

It hurt to give the answer that he knew to be true, but it hurt worse to know that, right beside him, a soul with whom he'd bonded irreversibly waited for that same crushing answer.

"No."

_It well may be_

_That we will never meet again_

_In this lifetime_

_So let me say before we part_

_So much of me is made of what I learned from you_

Yugi shuddered as if physically struck and recoiled several steps backward, his face turned away, buried in his own sleeve. Yami felt a sudden dagger of pain. Just days ago, he could have been the one to comfort his _aibou_.

Now, he was the cause of that agony.

"Yugi..." Yami stepped forward again, holding out his hand beseechingly. "Please... know that if I could do anything to spare you this pain, I would. But I must return... I must let my spirit rest in peace."

"I know—I know!" Yugi's voice was muffled and it trembled, but the young boy squared his shoulders and lifted his ashen face, streaked with tears and taut with pain, from its hiding place. "It just feels like... now, without you..." He shrugged one shoulder feebly. "Everything I am is somehow connected to you."

"And I to you, Yugi," Yami said. "But in that sense, we will never truly be apart." He waited to let his remark sink in, waited until his other self looked him in the eye again.

"The kindness you have taught me, Yugi, and the courage you've learned from me... those things will _never_ leave us, no matter how many millennia separate our souls."

A new strength slowly found its way into the broken eyes before him. Yami smiled, thanking the gods that he was getting through—that some of that hopelessness and pain was leaving his _aibou_'s young face.

Softly, so softly, Yugi repeated his earlier words.

"We will never truly be apart."

_You'll be with me_

_Like a handprint on my heart_

"All right?" Yami held his other half out at arm's length, searching his face with sharp violet eyes so alike the ones that looked into his, yet so different as well.

Yugi released a deep, shuddering breath. "All right," he said quietly, nodding his head, his golden bangs brushing his tearstained face.

Yami prepared to turn away.

"Wait—Yami..." The pharaoh glanced back at his other half, a question in his eyes.

Yugi smiled—a true smile this time, albeit one that held the shimmer not of joy but of sorrow and tears. "No matter what happens—no matter how much it hurts—if I could do it over again, I wouldn't change a thing."

To his intense embarrassment, Yami could feel tears welling up in his own eyes. In a voice that was suddenly thick and choked, he answered, "Nor I, Yugi. Nor I."

_And now whatever way our stories end_

_I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend_

"Goodbye, Yami." Yugi's voice was quite steady now, though the tears on his eyes shone as brightly as ever. "I will never forget you. You've given me more than I can ever hope to repay."

Yami drew his light into a tight embrace, squeezing him until his arms ached. From the lack of oxygen in his lungs, he knew Yugi was doing the same.

"And Yugi, I will never forget you. If I had had a brother—or a son..." Yami drew back. "He would have been you."

_Like a ship blown from its mooring _

_By a wind off the sea_

_Like a seed dropped by a skybird_

_In a distant wood_

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_But because I knew you_

_Because I knew you_

_I have been changed for good_

Finally ready, Yugi stepped back, his fists still clenched at his sides, his eyes still hollow with pain, his face still white and tense.

But now, there was a smile on his face, and things didn't seem quite so hopeless anymore.

"And you've forgiven me for everything?" Yami knew the question was unnecessary—at least, he knew it in his mind. But somehow, his heart wouldn't let him step through that door until he'd heard the answer one more time—until he'd heard for certain that he would be remembered for what good he'd managed to bring to Yugi's life, not for the suffering that had followed it all too often.

_And just to clear the air_

_I ask forgiveness for the things I've done you blame me for_

"Yes, Yami." The answer came without hesitation, without resentment, without the faintest trace of a grudge. "And you've done the same for me?" Yugi's voice was pleading, his young face imploring.

Yami laughed. "Yugi, if you had ever done anything to hurt me..." his face softened. "I've already forgiven it a long time ago."

_But then, I guess we know there's blame to share_

_And none of it seems to matter anymore_

_Like a comet pulled from orbit_

_When it passes a sun_

_Like a seed dropped by a _

_Bird in the wood_

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better?_

_I do believe I have been changed for the better_

Yami turned away for the last time, his shoulders squared and memory shining in his eyes—a memory that now included not only his ancient past, but a more recent story of devotion, courage, inner strength, and kindness.

_And because I knew you_

Yugi watched the Pharaoh stride into the open doorway. He could feel a hot Egyptian breeze on his face; it peppered his skin with rough grains of sand.

_Because I knew you_

Turning his head back and glancing over his shoulder, Yami met Yugi's eyes wordlessly. His skin had darkened; a crown rested on his head; his sandals stood on golden dunes instead of stone floor.

That didn't change the look the two gave one another as the doors slid closed.

_Because I knew you..._

The light from the portal began to dim as the stone took its place in front of the archway, never again to be moved.

_I have been changed..._

In two different worlds, on two different plains, at two different times... tears overflowed from two pairs of violet eyes, and two voices spoke as one across the barriers of time and space.

"I will always remember."

_For good_

_

* * *

_

_Fin_


End file.
